Twisted
by mercycorps
Summary: Everything goes horrendously wrong when the Millennium chip malfunctions, failing to set him ablaze and end his miserable existence. Now being held prisoner by the Hellsing Organization, it's only a matter of time before he loses whatever remains of his sanity. But is he entirely alone? Is the Major still pulling his strings, or is there someone else looking out for him?
1. The Beginning

**_[A/N]:_ Hey, so this is the revamped version of **_**Twisted Arms and Broken Glass**_ **. I decided to start a new account due to the many bad experiences and terrible stories linked to my old account. Why did I specifically choose to redo this story? Well, I'm actually pretty fond of it, but it was really bad and I felt it needed far more than just a few written chapters. Expect to the story to turn out much differently than its original. This first chapter is essentially the same with a few changes here and there.**

* * *

He knew the mission would be a failure, no matter how optimistic the two of them had seemed at first. They were set for failure from the very beginning, when they both agreed to be vampires, perhaps even before then. That's how the Major had planned it, after all. Luke was naïve throughout tthe whole thing, truly believing his artificial abilities could defeat that of the No Life King. _But he knew._ Jan knew from the very beginning how it would end for the two of them. It was common sense. No matter how many times he would play it out in his head, no matter how many different scenarios he would create, they all had the same outcome. _So why not go out with a bang?_

He sat slumped over on the ground, blessed bullets burning deep into his flesh (though none of them fatal enough to end his life) and a mixture of blood and sweat drenching his body. He clutched at the remains of his right arm as blood seeped through his glove. His adrenaline high was beginning to wear off and he could feel a burning agony settling across his body. In spite of the blood and sweat and pain, he somehow managed to keep the same toothy, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He wouldn't let them see how scared he was, not some punk-ass newbie, not the fucking butler, and especially not that aristocratic bitch and her cronies.

 _"Answer,"_ she shouted, bringing him back down to Earth after having been shot with another bullet. Anyone could see the fire blazing in her eyes, how her finger twitched atop the trigger, and just how furious and enraged she must've felt. And all he could do… was laugh in the face of Death. _It was about all he could do._

"Aw c'mon bitch, _you know~_ The ones who put the fuckin' chip in me." He stood with a grunt, leaning against the wall and his legs quivering slightly under his weight. "The chip that's sending them information letting them know we fucked up. They can hear us talking. Every last Goddamned word," he coughed, "If they know I'm standin here all fucked up and dyin' about to tell you everything, _you think they're gonna fuckin' let me live?_ "

He stood waiting for the blazing glory in which his life would end, never breaking eye contact with the Iron Bitch. There was a fainting clicking in ear and a sharp pain in the side of his head, as though the chip was grinding against itself… and then it silenced. He stood there, his blood-soaked hand still held out in front of him as he awaited his fate, the tension and anticipation in the air thick enough to cut through. But… _nothing happened_.

His grin faltered, his eyes widening and jaw tensing. His outstretched hand shook slightly. He… wasn't supposed to- This- this wasn't part of the Major's plan. That he was sure of. He was supposed to die. _He knew he was!_ But there he was, feeling as though his heart was about to beat out of his chest as he stood in front of the Round Table Conference.

Jan searched the room, for any signs of a small boy or... well.. anything. Nothing. No one. Not even a sign or a message of abandonment. It felt as though he'd been abandoned and forgotten… and everyone else in the room knew it. His arm fell to his side as he slid down the wall and onto the ground. What had once been a look of cockiness had been replaced with bewilderment. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see everyone else's expressions shifting from anticipation to hardened glares.

His gaze shifted back to the Iron Bitch as he muttered, **_"…Oh fuck me,"_** before his vision finally faded to black.

* * *

 ** _[A/N]:_ And there it is. I hope this is somewhat better than the original chapter.**


	2. Play Our Little Game

**_[A/N]:_ Finally out with chapter 2. Took me long enough… I'll be honest, I really have no idea what I'm even supposed to be saying in the author's notes so it'll probably just be random drivels. You probably don't even need to read any of these. Just skip past this right now, there's literal no point in reading this. If you're still reading this, I have no idea why. You should probably just stop right now and enjoy the story instead of wasting your time with the Author Notes.**

* * *

He remembered waking up with a terrible headache, his head foggy and slow. The world around him seemed an indistinguishable blur of darkness and pain, the surface below him cold and hard. His hand seemed to move on its own accord, fingertips brushing against the surface in search of something until, finally, they wrapped around a scratchy material and pulled it closer. He couldn't quite make sense of anything else really.

 ** _"… Fuck…"_**

Jan sat up, his head still spinning and stomach churning. He wished he could remember what had happened the night before, but all he could recall were faded memories of red. He could only imagine what he'd gotten himself into, especially considering he'd never felt this level of 'fucked up' before. Luke would probably tell him later… Where was he anyways?

His gaze slowly shifted over a small crack in the walls, where the only source of light leaked through, as a series of clicks seemed to grow louder and louder. Suddenly, he was blinded as light poured into the room, a figure striding in about halfway. Cigar smoke flooded his sense, nearly nauseating him once more. And, without a moment's notice, the gruesome reality of the matter came flooding back to him.

"Do you know _why_ you're here, Mr. Valentine?" That stone cold voice rang out and grated against his ears like nails against chalkboard, and his stomach flipped. "Have you any clue as to why I've kept some manky piss-artist alive and well?"

She stared down at him, her lips curled in a sneer as though she were staring down the rotten corpse of a rat. He glared back up at her, and, though the weight of his exhaustion held him down for the most part, he wanted nothing more than to clench his maw around her pristine throat and rip it out. It just… wasn't possible, not while he felt like he was dangling on the edge of death.

She left the room in silence for a moment, removing her cigar from her lips and blowing out a cloud of smoke. "You're going to tell me every bit of information I wish to know, willing or not. Any wrong move on your part, and I won't hesitate to end your miserable existence."

She moved forward until she stood directly above him, staring him down with an icy glare. Hellsing hummed, her lips rising into a smug grin. He winced as she flicked the ashes from her cigar onto him, the ash burning his cheek for a moment before cooling. "Your superiors may have let you have the run of the island, but you're my dog now and I'll see to it that you stay in this dog house until the very end of you pathetic, undead life. _Do I make myself clear?_ "

He glared up at her. _"… Crystal_ ," he spat.

* * *

 **And that's a wrap. Sorry this chapter was so short. There was going to be a lot more, but I felt that the other bit would best be left to the other chapter. Plus, my computer's a piece of shit that turns off at the drop of a hat, especially when I'm writing. I literally rewrote the last scene in this chapter 15 times, which is actually kind of lucky because it gave me time to think about what's gonna happen in the next chapter before hastily posting this chapter. Anyways, I hoe you somewhat enjoyed this chapter even though it's probably been a month or two since I posted the first.**


	3. Boredom and Stress

**[A/N]: Back with another chapter ^-^ It's probably been months since I last posted one. Sorry for the long wait. I meant to post it last month, but I'd gotten caught up in in studying for exams and what not that I didn't have any time to. Not to mention, this chapter as been written and rewritten more times than I can count. I've been working on fixing the bugs and plot holes and what not. Just so it remains in a different category from the other story. Anyways I hope you enjoy it.**

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If there was only one word she could use to describe the weeks following the incident, it would be Hell. Sir Integra leaned back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose as she refused to look at a mere shred of document any longer. She hadn't even bothered to glance at the time, knowing damn well that it was getting too late for her to stay up any longer.

The weeks following the Valentine's attack had been nothing short of stressful. The Round Table had been set on edge with thoughts of an oncoming war, and, since the first incident had taken place within her own home, the responsibility of handling the problem fell upon her shoulders. To make matters worse, the others had already begun accusing one another of treason, namely Sir Penwood. Even she had been accused at some point.

She shook her head, lighting a cigar and inhaling the fumes as though they were life giving. How anyone would believe Penwood had turned traitor was beyond her. Even if he was a bumbling oaf, she hadn't a doubt in her mind about his where his loyalties lied. She'd known him since she was a child, after all.

As for her, she knew damn well she wasn't the cause of any security issues nor did she feel the need to prove it to the others of the Round Table. They could accuse her all they want, but she knew they were overtaken with fear and suspicion. It was sad, really, to see them in such a state of panic… Even she couldn't help feeling a bit paranoid herself to a certain degree, even pointing her eyes to a few suspicious members of the Round Table. Even so, she refused to allow her fears to take ahold of her now would she act based on any irrational fears. It was beyond her father's teachings.

She sighed in frustration, a cloud of smoke escaping her hadn't come up with any new information since the first few days after the attack, when the younger brother had warned them of the Millennium, and that was all they had gathered since. It remained tight-lipped as ever, though she wasn't sure if it was out of any remaining loyalty or out of sheer stubborn and bull-headedness. Whatever the reason, it was wasting valuable time they could be using hunting down the perpetrators of the attack and putting an end to this Hell.

* * *

It wasn't that he had any remaining loyalty for Millennium. As soon as Luke had kicked the bucket, the last true connection he actually had left was a faulty chip somewhere in his head. Perhaps they were still monitoring him. Or maybe the chip had burned itself out trying to ignite him. He had no clue. All he knew was that he really couldn't care less what was going on with his head anymore. The stupid chip didn't work, and look where that landed him. Locked away in the Hellbitch's basement.

His fingers kept twitching as he lied there, staring at the plain, wooden surface above him. That's how he usually passed the time after interrogations, aside from sleeping that is. They usually kept him locked in his coffin, probably to keep him from being some sort of security risk. He was sure they had that damned thing made while he was blacked out. _He just couldn't stop fidgeting._ Even if he'd spend the last few weeks inside it, he just couldn't get used to living inside it. It was just such a small, tight space, and it was so damn hot inside it too! It truly felt like death inside that thing, and he almost found himself a bit anxious to get out of it.

The interrogation had ended about an hour earlier, and, like always, he hadn't spoken one useful word. It was about the only form of defiance he had left. He often wondered why they even bothered trying to talk to him anymore. He was stubborn whether they threatened him or not. They'd probably kill him as soon as they found something better than him, not that he cared anymore. The quality of his life was less than that of a two month old piece of dog shit. It'd be an act of mercy if they decided to end his life. He just couldn't wait...

* * *

 **[A/N]: Yeah, this chapter isn't the best ^-^' I guess this was kind of an update on living status and how they're all living at the moment. But, you know, I'm still working on it. The next should have a bit more going on it, hopefully.**


	4. Survival of the Fittest

**[A/N]: I know it's been about two years since I last updated this fic and I apologize for that. IRL responsibilities completely took over my life, and almost all of my hobbies had to be put aside to take care of them. However, things have calmed down since I've graduated, moved, and joined the service. So that leaves me with hours on end to start getting these chapters done.  
**

 **This chapter, right here, has been rewritten at least four times. So enjoy.  
**

 **[Trigger warning for child neglect/abuse]**

* * *

 _A small child, only five or six years of age, sat crossed-legged on the tiled floor, whining and rubbing at his eyes. Heavy snoring could be heard from the other room, and the cries of cicadas and nesting birds washed in from an open window. Unwashed clothes and bug infested trash were scattered across the floor. Nary a toy could be seen in spite of his obvious presence. A high pitched whine escaped his throat once more, and, clutching his stomach, he glanced at the sleeping beauty. He so desperately wanted to wake her, **but he** **knew better**.  
_

 _So he sat there, staring longingly at sun-bleached cabinets. Groaning, he pulled his knees close to his chest and rocked himself back and forth.  
_

* * *

Fingers twitching, glossy eyes stared blankly at the stone corners of his prison cell. Arm and legs were bound by leather straps which, had he not been starved, could've easily been broken from. A sigh escaped his lips and his head lolled forward to stare into his lap. How long had it been now? A week? A month? The nights meshed unpleasantly together into one monotonous nightmare these days, and the vampire found it all but impossible to care enough to keep the time.

"Are you even listening, or would you like me to repeat the question once more?" Jan glanced into the exasperated eyes of the butler, the officer behind him with her arms crossed across her overly abundant chest. She barely even noticed him, and, if anything, seemed withdrawn from the situation altogether. Who could blame her? Any time she'd glance in his general direction, he couldn't help but make lewd comments. It was enough to get a rise out of her and keep him entertained, for what it was worth.

The vampire gave them a cocky albeit weak grin. "Look me in the fuckin' eyes and ask if I give a shit again." He leaned his head back, snickering as tired groans reverberated across the room. "I fuckin' tell ya~ Y'all are about the damn stupidest bunch of 'experts' I've ever fuckin' seen! No wonder y'all went down like a bunch o' fuckin' pussies." Sitting up to stare into their eyes, his voice was low and mocking. "Hellsing's a Goddamned joke."

"Perhaps, but then what does that make you?" A chill settled across the cell, shivers running down his spine and the hair standing on the back of his neck. Heavy boot steps echoed across the room as Alucard phased through the cracked stone, piercing red eyes staring into amber ones. _Shit_. "You might think us a joke, but then you're nothing more than a disappointment."

He huffed through his nose and turned his gaze elsewhere. Brows furrowed and teeth bared. "The fuck do you even know? At least I ain't gettin' off on suckin' the dick of some aristocratic cunt and her harem of old fucks," he growled between his teeth.

"Oh really?" The elder cocked a brow. Taking his cheeks between three gloved fingers, he wrenched his head back to stare into his eyes. Jan swallowed hard, fighting the urge to sink within himself. Cold breath brushed against him as the other leaned closer to him, small, dark circles settling onto his flesh as his grip tightened. "I suppose it doesn't matter what you think I know. Devouring that pathetic excuse of a vampire could only tell me so much about you," he growled into his ear, "Regardless, I'll have you squealing soon enough."

Someone had cleared their throat. Alucard lingered for a moment, chuckling against the nape of his neck before finally pulling away. "Pardon me for interrupting but might I ask why you've decided to join us?"

"Ah yes, about that..." He flashed Jan a toothy grin as he spoke, invading his personal space once more by placing a large hand upon his right shoulder. "Since your silly little 'investigation' has been nothing more than a waste of our time, Sir Integra has turned over custody of the boy to me. Walter, I'm sure you're aware of the recent contact the Iscariot Organization has made, and that you and the Police Girl will escort my master to this meeting in my place."

Walter arched a brow, laced fingers now resting on the table. "... I see. And I suppose that, given the nature of tomorrow's meeting and should we gain any significant information, you'll be disposing of the boy?"

"No," he cut in, placing a large hand on his shoulder. "It's quite the opposite, actually. He may be the lowest of the low, but it's been decided that the information he holds is invaluable to us. If not... he'll be quite fun to keep as a pet~!" He swallowed hard, a cold sweat overtaking him as every word rolled off the elder's tongue.

This time, the police girl stepped forward, seemingly uncertain about whether or not she wanted to question her master. She'd been so quiet, that Jan had almost forgotten she was even there. " _You can't be serious!_ " Her fists shook at her sides, glaring hard at the two of them. "After everything he's put us through, all those men he killed- _Why?_ "

"That's none of your concern, Police Girl." He chuckled.

"But Master-?!"

"Enough, coward! If you feel so inclined to disobey me, then kill him now. Go on, Police Girl! Show me you're a true vampire and drink his blood!" She stared wide-eyed at him, hesitating for a moment before casting her eyes down and taking a step back. As though to rub salt into the wound, Alucard asked, "No?"

"And, if not to kill him, what, exactly, **do** you plan to do with him then," Walter cut in.

His wicked grin widened as though the thought aroused him. "Whatever I desire~ Mold and shape him, toy with him, push him to his limits. He's mine to do with as I please. After all... it's rather simple to turn such a weak fledgling without a master into your own. I can't help but wonder..."

Suddenly, several thick, black tendrils coiled around his legs and slithered up his body, toying with his restraints before, one by one, effortlessly tearing through them. A hand slipped up to rub the bruises on his face, if anything, to see if he'd truly been released. He stood to his feet.

Not even for a moment, did he hesitate as the sinful idea came to his mind.

Jan lunged forward, tearing past tendrils and throwing the metal table aside in a burst of speed and adrenaline. Freedom was just within his grasp, and, perhaps, this was just spontaneous enough to catch them off guard and allow him a few seconds head start. But it was only wishful thinking.

Freedom was soon out of his reach as a large hand grasped his arm and snatched him from the air. He was pulled flush against the towering form of Alucard. Even so, he struggled and fought with every last bit of strength he had left, screaming profanities and insults. "Cocksucker! Get the fuck off o' me, you motherfucking piece of shit!"

The other clicked his tongue and shook his head though seemingly amused by his attempted escape. "How very naughty of you, my dear~ Did you honestly think it would be that easy?" He chuckled lowly. Releasing his arm, he placed his palm firmly on the small of his back and fingers laced themselves through his hair. "You were sadly mistaken~ You see, you belong to me now. And what's mine is _mine_ ," he growled, ripping his hair back to expose his neck.

With a frightening hiss, pointed fangs suck deep into his gullet, earning a strangled screech from the vampire as he fought violently against him.

* * *

 _The child sighed, shutting his eyes and resting his head on his knees. A breeze fluttered in through the window, bringing with it the sweet scents of autumn. For a moment, he was content to wallow in his own self-pity, hoping. Perhaps his brother would walk through the door early and offer him the help he needed. Maybe his mother would wake up and realize that, for once, he needed to be fed. But he knew better. Brows furrowed and lips pursed. Small hands curled into fists. A boy couldn't survive or feed himself on prayer and hope alone. No. It simply wasn't possible._

 _At that moment, everything became transparently clear; The saddening realization that he could rely on no one except himself had hit him like a ton of bricks. He was alone. But it had always been that way, hadn't it? Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he must've known. The information, he realized, wasn't anything new or surprising to him. It was just... **sad**. Like this was something no child should ever have to learn.  
_

 _Eyes shot wide opened, a faint stinging waking him from his melancholy. He blinked. A small line of ants had crawled up his leg, leaving small, red bumps as minuscule pincers dug into his skin. The boy glanced at his mother once more. No one could help him but himself. Not her. Not his brother. No one but himself. It was survival of the fittest, and he would do what he had to to survive.  
_

 _With only a moment's hesitation, the small boy plucked the insects from his flesh and, one by one, swallowed them whole. It was unpleasant, the feeling of tiny legs and bodies sliding and crawling down his throat, but he didn't care. He would survive. By God, at least he would **survive**. _


End file.
